The Kiss of Defeat
by Crysania
Summary: Sequel to The Kiss of Death. Rumplestiltskin brings the curse back to Zelena. Warning: Contains THAT SCENE from 3x18 and a bit of violence. [Written after 3x18]


He only just barely steps out of the pawnshop when he feels the pull of magic. His dagger. He can't refuse the call and so steels his nerves as he disappears and reappears back in the cage he has occupied for longer than he likes to think of.

"And just where have you been?" Zelena is there. Of course she is. Too close, leaning in, pale eyes narrowed.

"You made a mistake, dearie," he murmurs. The words draw her in closer. "You forgot to tell me that I had to _stay_ this time."

"But I did…"

"You did the last time." And he grins. "You should be more careful." He pulls away from her, stalks further into the darkness of the cage before turning back.

She raises the dagger and throws something at him. He catches it without thinking. "What am I supposed to do with this?" It's a suit, apparently. In better condition than the ragged one he's wearing now, but the material is cheap. It's not one of his, probably just a cheap knock-off of the expensive ones he prefers in this world. Zelena tries. Oh, she tries hard. But she never quite succeeds.

"What do you _think_ you're supposed to do?" she shoots back. "_Wear_ it."

He holds it up and gives it a once over. He supposes he can wear it just this one time. And then burn the thing. "Now why would I do _that_?" He is baiting her. He knows he is. But he has to get her on edge before he can go forward with his plan.

"We're celebrating." Her whole demeanor changes as she lets out a slight giggle. It's off-putting and Rumplestiltskin knows better than anyone where she picked that one up. "I have Regina's heart." The words are triumphant. "And I have Charming's courage. And _your_ brain. My plan is almost ready to enact."

"Your _plan_." The words are dry, said on a slight sneer.

"Indeed." That same giggle again. "Now get ready. Join me in the house when you're ready." She turns to leave.

"You're not going to watch me change?"

She turns back, eyes him up and down, leans back closer to the cage. "As tempting as that might be, I have a dinner to prepare." And then she is gone. The storm cellar she has been keeping him in feels less like an unbreakable cage and more like a stopping point on the way to something better.

He has plans too.

* * *

She has set the table, the mood. There is soft music playing, wine and candles. Her outfit, he notices though he wishes he didn't, was low cut and clung to her form. Zelena was not an unattractive woman, not on the surface, not if you looked past the slightly crazed look in her eyes and the large dagger she was holding as she directed him to his seat. She uses her beauty as a weapon.

Her control is slipping a little this night. He can feel it when he enters the room, when he sits down. The commands are not as firm and while he moves not of his own volition, it is not with the same force he has felt before. She is already letting her guard down.

He smiles as she places dinner in front of him. "Meat pies," he murmurs. "How utterly surprising."

Zelena sneers at him for a moment, her grip on the dagger firm. But then the sneer melts into a smile and the dagger is tucked into her boot. With both hands free, she leans forward and touches his hand while picking up her fork. "Enjoy, Rumple." The smile seems almost genuine, almost pleasant. He knows otherwise.

"So are you planning on telling me what all of this is about?" The words drop like lead into the silence.

Zelena freezes, her fork halfway to her mouth, then sets it back down. "Have you ever wanted to go back, redo things in your life? Fix the mistakes you've made?"

His eyes narrow on her. "Of course." If he could go back to the moment he lost his son down the portal…no, if he could go back to when he stole the Dark One's dagger and killed him with it. Maybe everything would have been different. Maybe he could have commanded the Dark One, gotten away with his son, fled to someplace not overrun with ogres. He could have saved them both.

"I've found a way."

He sucks in a breath. This he hadn't expected. "No." The word is out before he even can stop it. "It's impossible."

"Only for some people. Only for _you_. But you can join me." She leans forward then, her voice turning to a slight purr. "See your son again."

He is tempted. He cannot deny that. His whole life has been about getting back to his son and now even that dream, that hope, has been shattered beyond repair. But what if he _could_ repair it again?

But then he thinks of Belle. Of all that their love has come to represent in his life. He didn't lie when he said she made him stronger. Belle is everything that is good and right in his life. He knows what she would say if she were here. He knows she would stand down from the witch, no matter what uniting with her might bring her.

He stands then, pours some more wine and hands one of the glasses to Zelena. He lifts his glass and touches it lightly to hers, allows a small smile to cross his features. "To this only being a bad memory."

Her answering smile is brilliant. She doesn't hear the double meaning of the words, only what she wants to hear. He doesn't expect otherwise from her, really. Zelena has always been somewhat short-sighted. Focused entirely on herself and her selfish needs, she often overlooks the obvious and twists things in her mind to meet her own expectations.

He can use that against her. It was just a matter of time before she slipped up.

He steps closer to her, sets the wine glass on the table. He lets his face fall into that familiar flirtatious smirk that he's used to unsettle countless people during countless deals. It won't have the same effect here, without the scales and otherworldly eyes, but it doesn't matter. He's going for seduction, for distraction. He needs her to be overwhelmed, to not suspect his true motives.

She can't know, of course. She had given the curse to Hook. There's no way for her to expect him to be carrying it now. Surely she knows the only way to transfer the curse and she would never imagine that he would actually go so far to bring the curse back to its creator. His motives for escape were never questioned. If she had asked, if she had wanted a full detailed report of what he had done, he would have had to give one. But she doesn't think that far ahead. She underestimates him. She tends to do that, much to her detriment.

"I am only dreadfully sorry," he murmurs. He moves closer to her, his eyes sliding down from eyes to lips.

She licks her lips in anticipation. "For what?" Her words are breathless, her eyes half shut.

Another step closer and he's standing over her, his hand coming out to touch the side of her face. "That we've been at cross purposes all these years, of course, my dear." Dear seems safe. He won't call her sweetheart. He won't denigrate that word with thoughts of Zelena. It is Belle's and Belle's alone.

"We have, haven't we?" She reaches out a hand and touches the lapel of his jacket. He has to stop his body's natural inclination to flinch.

"We have. But no more." The time for words is through. He needs this over. He needs it over _now_. He leans down and brushes the hair away from her neck. This is the moment of truth. This is why he started this thing, why he has to complete it. He doesn't want to. He thinks of Belle, of passionate kisses in the back of his shop, in the library, in his home. He thinks of declarations of love and future plans and the future they will never have if Zelena wins. She will send them back in time or she will kill them. It's really that simple. At the moment, he is their only hope and he takes that seriously.

His lips just barely graze the skin of her neck and Zelena clutches him close, letting out a low moan somewhere in the back of her throat. She's bought into it. She is so desperate for love, for attention, for _this_, that she has simply looked past his hatred and anger, past the fact that he's told her before he'll kill her.

He turns her, lips still on her neck, hand buried in her hair. He's convincing, the noises she makes indicating she has yet to catch onto the deception. All she notices are his lips at her neck. She doesn't open her eyes and see him coldly calculating exactly where to move her to so that he can kiss her and get his hands on the dagger still tucked into her boot.

Zelena ends up pushed up against the table, leaning back slightly, chest heaving with every movement, every moan. He braces himself with one hand on the table, tilting her back just slightly, just enough that in order to keep her balance, she has to bring one leg up and around his hips. He helps her, reaching his right hand down for her leg, gripping her thigh and pulling it upward. It has to be _that leg_, but still she has not caught on.

"Yes," she whispers and he breaks away from her neck.

_Now or never_…He leans in, whispers her name. And then his lips meet hers. It's worse than kissing Hook in some ways. There's no facial hair, but her mouth opens beneath his and she tries to force her tongue into his mouth. He allows her, the deception at this time crucial. If she suspects and backs away, he won't get another chance.

Nothing happens for a moment, nothing but Zelena's moans and his own mind desperately hoping that this will be over soon. Mouthwash may not be enough to remove the taste of her from him.

And then there is a small hitch. Hands that were pulling him closer just a moment before come up to his shoulder to try to shove him back. He wraps both hands around her, keeps his lips glued to hers and opens his eyes. Hers are open as well, wide, frightened, intense. She knows what is happening and she's trying to stop it. He can't let that happen. The curse hasn't taken hold yet.

He wraps his arms around her, tight, vice-like. She's squirming. The noises she's making are no longer moans. They're protests. She wants out and rightly so. He can feel the drain on her, can feel everything she is slipping away. She fights it for a moment and then he feels a slight pop.

He reaches his hand to her boot and his fingers close around the hilt of his dagger.

He is free.

He pushes back from her. She's dazed, but she knows. "Why?" she whispers. The fear is so strong he can almost smell it. Her magic is at minimal levels. She won't be able to access it. She's strong enough to have survived the draining of her magic, but what once came easily to her was gone, boiling off into the air around them and then dissipating.

He smiles, feral, a half-snarl that makes her already pale skin whiten even more. "For Bae." His voice is little more than a whisper. "For Belle."

She shakes her head. "We could still cast it…"

"No," he cuts her off with. He raises the dagger, but her eyes stay on his. She doesn't see the motion. She is still shaking her head, still in denial of what this all means. A moment ago she had everything. Now it's all gone. He raises his upper lip in a snarl as he leans closer to her. "You should have killed me when you had the chance."

And he plunges the dagger into her. He can feel it rip through tissue and muscle, coming to lodge somewhere in between her ribs. She gasps as it sinks to the hilt into her. It's the last successful breath she can draw. As she tries to take in another one, he sees the panic rising, her eyes wide, the blue of her irises seeming even paler than before.

He pulls the blade out and she crumbles, falling backward slightly. Only his still leaning into her keeps her balanced against the table that had once held her hopes and dreams. When he steps back she is frozen there for a moment, then a small bubble of blood trickles from her lips and she sinks gracelessly to the ground.

It's over.

For all of them.

With barely a thought to the dead witch, he disappears from the farmhouse.

* * *

He materializes in his pawnshop. It's the first place he can think of and so that's where he lands. In moments, he finds himself surrounded by people, sword at this throat, crossbow aimed at his heart. There is a commotion and then finally…

"Rumple?" Belle rushes forward, pushing Granny's crossbow out of the way and shoving past Charming's sword. She pauses before touching him and her eyes go to the dagger clutched in his hand, still with the witch's blood on it.

"It's over," he whispers.

And then Belle is suddenly wrapped around him, her small body shaking as she embraces her long-lost love. "You are truly free?"

He feels like sobbing himself, but manages to keep his wits about him. There will be time for the fall-out from this. But now is not the time, not with so many present. He is a private man and any dealing with the witch's control over him, the loss of his son, would be with Belle and Belle alone.

"I am," he whispers into her hair.

"The witch?" David asks. He looks up and meets David's eyes as the prince approaches him.

"Dead." His voice is flat as he speaks. "She will trouble you no more."

"It's really over," Snow White says, her voice breathless as she places a hand over her stomach. Her baby would be born soon and the threat against the child was removed.

"You are safe."

David moves closer and leans over to place a hand on Rumplestiltskin's shoulder. He only just grazes it before Rumplestiltskin flinches away from him. He withdraws his hand, stands awkwardly bent for a moment before straightening. "Thank you."

Belle is the only one who can get close to him. She wraps her arms around him as he nods in response to David's words. He's tired, everything from the last year finally weighing down his shoulders. "Belle," he whispers and she leans down next to him, presses her cheek against his. "I need to see my son."

With an understanding and compassion he had never imagined to be directed at him, the rest of the group shuffle out. Emma places a hand briefly on Belle's shoulder as she walks by. Snow murmurs quietly to his love. "If you need anything..." David gives him one long look and a tight smile. And then they are alone.

He will not break down. Not now. Not yet. Belle hands him his cane. He doesn't know how she knows he needs it. Not because his ankle hurts anymore, but because he needs something to lean on, something to support him. She wraps an arm around his waist and together they make their slow, halting way out of the pawn shop and to the cemetery. There will be time for explanations, for information, but right now he needs to say goodbye to the son who he ripped apart the world for. He needs to apologize, one last time, beg for forgiveness one last time, and lay those memories to rest before he can move forward with his life.


End file.
